


Clone Bang

by ilovelocust



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Asphyxiation, Breathplay, Double Penetration, Forced Orgasm, Gang Rape, Gangbang, M/M, Season 6 episode 5, Spitroasting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 12:02:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15024185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilovelocust/pseuds/ilovelocust
Summary: When Kuron lead Keith to the clone facility, his orders weren't specifically to kill him.  Just to keep him busy.  Well when a couple more clones get out of stasis early, the options for keeping Keith busy get a whole lot more varied.





	Clone Bang

**Author's Note:**

> Guys, those tags are serious. You've been warned.

The panel sparks and explodes under Shiro’s fist. The pods surrounding them flicker, flashing Galra words appearing on their read outs. Shiro turns, and Keith is forced to summon his blade. Alarm klaxons howl and the tubes hiss, but Keith can’t take his eyes away from the lethal blows raining down upon. Shiro, his best friend, the man who changed his life, is trying to kill him.

It takes all his training to keep up. Two years with nothing to do but practice with his blade, and he can barely block each glowing hot swing of Shiro’s hand. This is the Champion, this is the man thrown into the arena with nothing but an ill-balanced sword, who came out undefeated against all the horrors the Empire could pit him against, and Keith, he never sees the left hook coming.

His helmet protects him. Keeps his jaw from cracking under the force, but his feet leave the ground. Keith is thrown back, a rag doll flying through the air.

He crashes into something decidedly softer than the expected hard railing or landing two stories below. His vision is filled with a broad chest, wrapped in the purple garb of the Empire’s slaves. Shiro, no, not Shiro, one of his clones. Glowing violet flashes in the corner of his eye, and Keith drags both of them out of the way of the next deadly strike.

He shoves the clone aside as soon as they are clear, out of the line of fire from the danger rounding on him, intent to kill. Keith pulls up his blade to defend against the next blow. He’s ready…but it doesn’t come. Shiro jerks to a stop, a robot who’s signal has been jammed.

“Shiro?” Keith asks, but his eyes are already wandering, looking for an external cause. He finds one. The clone tubes surrounding the semi-circle they’ve been fighting in are all open, liquid spilled out on the floor, contents set free. Nine perfect copies of his best friend, including the man he’d pulled out of the way. All groaning, shaking, holding their heads.

All at once their heads snap up, ten identical pairs of glowing purple eyes train in on him. One Shiro was nearly too much, ten? He doesn’t stand a chance.

The clones are unblemished, unchanged from the bright eyed pilot Keith said goodbye to on Earth, but they are still strong, still know far too much about how he fights. There are no walls to put his back to. They have him surrounded in between one breath and the next. He fends off two in front, and another grabs him from behind. No glowing hot metal to slit through his armor, but strong hands to tear his helmet free and a kick to the back of the knees to bring him to the ground. He’s dead.

Someone has his hand. Sharp teeth bite into his fingers, tearing his grip from his blade. Shiro, the one still wearing the Black Paladins armor, the one he followed to this place intent on rescuing, approaches with his newly transfigured arm. Twisted sharp metal, that show the lie that it could ever be a mere replacement for what was lost. This is a pre-functionary action. The others could easily tear Keith to shreds on their own. A clone holds each of his arms. His helmet’s gone. Anyone could slit his throat with his own knife and he could do nothing to stop them, but it seems his death sentence wishes him to die by the hand that will hurt most. One last bit of sadism to end his life. 

Sharp claws reach forward, and Keith drags his eyes from their wicked points to stare into the unfriendly glow of his…friend’s, “Shiro, I can help you.” Keith tries. Nothing he’s said has caused a moment’s hesitation, but he has to try. If he can just reach Shiro, he can save him. Please universe, just let him do this one thing.

Shiro smirks, his canines have elongated. Closer to Keith’s than his natural ones. More of the witch’s magic twisting Shiro’s body for her own uses. He will end her, “But Keith,” Shiro says, almost sing songy in his tone, “How can you help me. If you can’t even help yourself.” A claw touches the unprotected skin of his neck, and Keith stops breathing. Feel the sharp point slide down the delicate flesh, until it can slip under the protective plating of his armor.

There is a soft click, and the first latch of his chest plate comes undone. Keith’s stomach flips. A hundred new possibilities spring to mind, all much worse than death. He’s been playing Chess, while the witch has been playing Go.

Keith pulls against the clones holding him, trying to wiggle an arm free so he can fight, but their grip is too strong. Shiro looks on, letting the clones take over, dismissive of his renewed struggle. Keith’s in no position to endanger anyone. Snick, snak, pauldrons and vambraces drop to the metal floor. The clones know the armor as well as he does, as well as Shiro does. It comes loose easily under their touch.

He fights the urge to shake. His defenses are being pulled free one by one, and that breeds a fear he can’t name, clawing inside his chest, yelling at him to get out now. He can’t let that show. Can’t advertise how thrown he is. How unprepared. Even when they’ve left him nothing but his under armor and greaves, he fights to keep his voice even, “Shiro, we can still fix this,” There is a way back from anything, as long as Shiro still breathes. It’s a truth nothing will alter

Shiro tilts his head, as if he might be listening to what Keith words. Pausing to consider. Then he reaches down and hooks a claw in the collar of Keith’s under-armor, “Don’t worry buddy,” Shiro says mildly, calmly slicing through Keith’s final layer of protection from neck to groin, “This will only hurt if you struggle.” Shiro smiles and laughs. Keith panics.

Hands pull the torn fabric over his shoulders, and Keith curses as the cold air of the facility hit’s his naked skin. No, no, no, no, this isn’t, this isn’t going to happen. Keith throw all his weight, all his strength against one arm, yanking it free when one clone’s grips loosens to let the fabric be pulled past. He throws his elbow back and feels it land with a satisfying crunch, a second before his skull is slams to the ground with a sickening crack.

Starbursts flash in front of his eyes, as a hard knee digs into the back of his neck. His offending arm is recaptured, roughly twisted back, then further, and further. Keith screams, “Why are you fighting?” Shiro asks. Keith’s visions steadies, to see that Shiro is kneeling beside him. Unnaturally warm metal fingers card through his hair. It could almost be affectionate, if not for the ripping sound of the last scraps of fabric cover his ass and thighs being cut free. That can’t be, Shiro wouldn’t, “We both know you want this.” Shiro says, patting him on the head sticky sweet, and there can be no doubts what he means.

Keith kicks out. Feet sliding against empty floor, a second before they too are pinned. No, no, this can’t be happening, “I don-” Keith cuts off with another scream, his already abused arm twisted further in a clone’s grip.

They let off, and Keith chokes, trying to recover his breath as Shiro waggles one clawed finger in front of his face, “Now, now, don’t lie, Keith,” Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see someone dipping their fingers into a pool of the slimy liquid that spilled from the tubes. The clones have been covered in the stuff, though much has rubbed off in their struggle. 

“You’ve wanted me for years,” Shiro continues. Keith’s heart takes off in his chest. Slime slick hands are spreading the cheeks of his ass. Exposing his puckered hole for questing digits. Keith’s muscles clench down, as a thumb prods his entrance. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. 

“You’ve wanted me to touch you,” He can’t stop the thumb from pushing in. A tiny spot of pain, even for such a small intrusion, “Take you,” Keith’s hips try to judder forward, but there is nowhere to escape. Nowhere to run. The digit pushes deeper, and another fat thumb joins it at his entrance, “Love you.” Keith clenches his eyes shut. Don’t cry, not over this. The thumbs pull apart, letting in the cold air where it doesn’t belong. It hurts.

“Almost too tight to be fun,” The voice is Shiro’s, casual as it takes from him, but not the one who has been talking. One of the other ones, the ones he can’t see, blocked from his sight by the knee still pressing down on his neck.

“A round or two and he’ll loosen up,” Someone else, but still Shiro’s voice. They don’t care, they’re all wearing his face, carrying his memories, and not one of them cares. 

Someone’s binding his arms with the remains of his suit, as Keith’s eyes crack open. Shiro’s still kneeling in front of him, but he’s watching them. Eye’s impassive. He doesn’t care. Keith’s heart cracks. The sound that crawls out of his throat barely human.

Shiro glances down, dismissively batting Keith’s head. Another high pitches noise escapes him, “Oh hush, you’re the one who wanted this.” The pressure on his neck releases, but he can’t bear to look back, “Don’t whine, just because you didn’t know what you were asking for.” Keith shakes his head. He’d never wanted this. Not in his darkest wet dreams. A tear drips down to stain his cheek. 

Shiro scoffs, before a rough hand fists his hair, dragging him up, to look him in the eye, “So it wasn’t you calling my name in the showers?” Shiro asks, and Keith’s heart stutters. Shiro had heard him? But he hadn’t been, this wasn’t, this wasn’t-

Shiro smirks, “Here’s a hint, if you don’t want people to know what you want, don’t let them catch you eye fucking them every time they look away.” Shiro lets go, and Keith crashes back down without his support. Keith’s body shivers without his consent…he hadn’t…he’d never…

“Spread your legs, Keith,” Shiro instructs, as his hips are lifted off the ground, ass presented in the air, “Or your fantasy is going to hurt a lot more than you’ll like.” He can’t stop them. He weighs nothing in these hands. They maneuver him with ease. Getting him ready. Human fingers dig into his thighs, trying to pry them apart. Keith clamps his legs together, this he can resist. He has strong legs, they can’t make him open up for them, no matter how hard they pull. Shiro sighs, “Fine, suit yourself. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The worst part is. He has thought about Shiro. In his bunk, in the Castle or the Garrison, he’s day dreamed about what it would be like. Hidden in a closet between classes, under the stars of the observatory. He’s had so many dreams, but they all had had a bone deep knowledge that Shiro would take care of him. Be gentle with his rough edges, maybe so overly considerate that Keith would have to take the lead, but Shiro would never hurt him was always his certainty.

The clone pushes into him without any real prep. Slick only with the slime from the floor, he forces the head of his cock against the tight ring of muscles guarding Keith’s holes. It hurts, it hurts, It Hurts! He’s tearing, he has to be tearing, it couldn’t hurt this much if he wasn’t, “Stop!” Keith cries out, legs sprawling apart, scrabbling for purchase, but he can’t get away from the pain, “Stop, please stop,” He begs. His entrance burns, feels as if he’s being ripped open to accommodate the ever larger growing intrusion. No one listens. The clone continues push, over his please.

Keith’s muscles give first. The head pushes through, with a sucking sensation. The ripping sensation stops, but only to be replaced with a burning, aching, flashes of raw sensitivity that are not so easily lost. The clone hisses above him, hand adjusting its grip on his hip, before thrusting forward hard. Keith’s insides scream their own protests to match his entrance. Deeper aches and hurts, as the soft walls of his rectum are battered open. Organs forced aside to make room. Keith’s small mantra of “please stop, please stop, please stop”, falls on deaf ears as the clone fully seats himself, only to pull back and start anew.

“You have no one to blame but yourself for this,” Shiro’s word drift down from above, a far away pitiless god, as Keith chokes on a sob, “You could have cooperated,” He looks up with blurring vision to the glowing gaze. Begs with his wet eyes alone for some mercy. Shiro shakes his head, disappointed, “You have to live with the consequences of your actions, Keith.”

The clone sets a brutal pace, pounding into Keith’s shaking frame, and all Keith can do is close his eyes and pray he will finish soon. 

He climaxes, balls deep in Keith, digging finger shaped bruises into his hips. Letting Keith collapse to the cold metal floor as he pulls out. Keith curls in on himself. He can see the clone’s softening erection as he stands. There is no blood. How could he hurt this badly, with no blood to show for it?

No one touches him, there’s a shuffling sound, something being banged open, but he needs a minute. He just needs a minute to breathe.

Shiro’s boots are in front of him. Black and white. Warm metal grips his jaw, and he’s being hauled up. His muscles spasms in pain, “Open up,” Shiro says, holding something shiny in front of Keith’s face. Keith clenches his jaw. No, whatever it is no, “I thought we just went over this,” Shiro sighs, clawed fingers digging in, trying to pry his mouth open, “Be reasonable buddy. We can’t just all keeping going one at a time. We’ll be here all day. Do you want that?” 

Keith growls through grit teeth and thrashes his head. Trying to pull free. Mind refusing to fully process Shiro’s words. They’re going to hurt him again, and he will fight every step of the way. That’s all he needs to know. He isn’t prepared for the prosthetic to come alive against him. The sound of sizzling reaches his ears, a second before the pain hits him full force. Keith howls in agony, as the burning flesh of his cheek whites out all other sensation.

He barely feels his head bounce against the floor. He pants open mouthed. The pain dulling with the source removed. Something hard and bitingly metallic has been shoved between his molars. Clamped in, where his tongue can’t push it loose. He can’t bite down. He can’t open his mouth further. He can’t do anything, “There we go, that should speed things up.” Shiro smiles down at him, as drool drips over Keith’s lips. He can’t,he can’t-

Shiro waves, and two clones step forward, erections hard and ready. Keith’s feet slip and slide on the floor. He tries to scramble backwards, ignoring his body’s protest not to move, but he’s an easy catch. His ankles seized, and he’s dragged back. Flipped over on his stomach. Ass pulled back into position. He lets them spread his legs this time. He hurts down there so much already. He doesn’t want to make it worse. 

It doesn’t help. Abused nerve endings scream all the same, as a new cock assails the bruising flesh of his insides left by the old. He can’t even beg. Words reduced to inarticulate pained noises, by the thing in his mouth.

Black boots step in front of him, and the second clone pulls his head up. He only has to see the waiting erection to know what they’ve done. They’ve turned him into the perfect passage, toothless and unable to fight whatever they give him. A single hand in his hair is all it takes to hold him still, as the clones gives himself a final preparatory tug. Then all Keith can do is watch as a thick cock is being shoved past his tongue. The clone drives in and Keith gags. Esophagus closing up, as the clone moans. He can’t make it all the way in the first time, but a few hard rams and Keith’s throat gives in, letting the clone take what he wants.

They’re no more gentle to his mouth than they were to his ass. The one behind groans to the slap slap slap of their skin. While the one in front doesn’t care if Keith can barely get enough air between each thrusts. Fucking his throat raw, and mashing Keith’s nose against the curls of his base until all he can smell is sex and Shiro.

There are no more pauses. The one behind spanks his ass to make him clench, and is barely done shivering through his orgasm before another takes over. He pushes in with a ferocity that makes Keith cry out, throat vibrating around the cock stuffing it, and the clone in front moans, digging his thumb into the burn on Keith’s cheek until he does it again. That one pulls out only to make sure his salty cum coats Keith’s tongue, wiping himself clean on Keith’s wet cheek.

Another is there to replace him, but the world is going blurry and indistinct. Keith doesn’t fight it.

The universe doesn’t have enough mercy to let him stay like that. A sharp pinch to his nipple jolts him, bringing the brutalization back into focus. Shiro is sitting beside him, watching his eyes closely, as his clones have their fun on either end, “Hey buddy, you don’t look like your having too good of a time,” Shiro says, mock sincere. Sharp claws tracing across his chest, nicking him whenever a harsh thrust jerks his limp body, “Fantasy not everything you wanted?” Shiro asks. The fresh wave of tears is unbidden. Why this?

Shiro smiles, “I think we can fix that,” Little beads of blood and pin pricks of pain follow Shiro’s hand down Keith’s stomach, until a warm metal encases his soft cock. Keith gurgles around the dick in his mouth in panic. No, god no, please no, “Shake your head if you don’t want this.” 

Keith tries, spit roasted between a cock up his ass and stuffed down his throat. He desperately tries, but the hands in his hair and on his hips won’t let him so much as wiggle. Shiro laughs, “Glad you’re on board buddy.” Keith lets out a muffled wail with the first tug of his cock.

It doesn’t feel good. It’s not supposed to feel good. Not like his daydreams. Not when he hurts so much, and just wants everything to stop. He does want it to stop. He does, he does, but there are sparks and blood is flowing down to fill the limp dick in Shiro’s hand. Drawing him through the pain to something so much worse, “There you go, I knew you’d like this.”

His holes, that’s all they are to anyone here, changes hands again, and the warm hand coaxes him harder, as Keith whimpers. He’s barely been able to breathe for a while, light headed with pain and more, but he’s always gotten just enough to keep him going. The new clone in front doesn’t even give him that. Burying himself deep in Keith’s throat and grinding, cutting off his last trickle of air. The burn in his lungs quickly eclipses the pain behind him or the..thing happening between his legs.

He can’t breathe. He’s going to choke to death, here and now. Would they even care enough to stop fucking him? “Oh you really like this,” Hot air against his skin, as Shiro speaks directly into his ear, “You’ve gotten so hard.” Shiro squeezes him, and Keith…he is…

The clone pulls back, and he doesn’t want to take the breath. Doesn’t want to be conscious for what’s coming, but his lungs betray him, gulping greedily, “Do that again,” Shiro says, “I think somebody has a kink.” He bits Keith’s earlobe for evidence, and Keith keens.

The clone cuts him off again, and Shiro must be right. Keith’s hard, and it’s building. No one else would be getting off on this. No one else would feel anything good from this. It’s only him.

His lungs cry out for air, tiny spots dot his vision. His body struggles, fights for what it needs, but the heat in his stomach coils tighter. Shiro pinches his nipple, and his orgasm rips free-

He blacks out, and comes to on his belly. Dick spent and lying in a sticky puddle…he came…he…did…

“Was it everything you dreamed of?” Shiro’s still here, sitting in front of him. Speaking to him as if he was asking if Keith liked the new Indian food he’d tried, instead of this. Keith can’t look into those eyes, not now, not after. He turns his face into the floor. It’s a poor act of hiding from reality. What he just did, but there is nothing else, “You know. I’ve been awfully nice to you today. So very giving,” Shiro says. Someone is lifting him up, like so much dead weight, “Don’t you think it would be nice of you to pay me back?” Keith shakes his head, but Shiro doesn’t acknowledge his movement.

Keith’s carted a few feet away, where one of the clones is waiting on his back. Erection tall and ready. Surely they don’t expect him to ride one of them. Even if he wanted to, his legs wouldn’t support him, “You know,” Shiro says from beside him, he’s doing something to the crotch of his armor, “I’ve always wanted to try this.” What more is there possibly to do? The clones have already taken everything. He’s already debased himself. What’s left?

Shiro nods to the person holding Keith, and he’s being lowered down onto the waiting cock. He was right, his legs can’t support him. There is no resistance at all, as his ass takes the cock from tip to base in one nauseatingly quick slide. The only thing holding him upright is the hand on his shoulder, and when that lets go, Keith falls chest to chest with the clone.

If you hurt for long enough, the pains becomes easier to ignore. More of a background that can’t be escaped, than something screaming for your attention. The burned cheek, the raw throat, the bruised and battered insides, and his quickly blackening hips. It’s all too much, to constant, to stay in the forefront forever. At least until he is hurt in an all new way.

The hard ridges of the paladin armor bump against his back, as Shiro arranges himself behind Keith. What is he doing? Keith can’t sit up, can barely look behind him if he strains. All he can see is Shiro’s grinning face. Those eyes meet his own, “Ready?” Shiro asks. Something blunt pushes against the strained rim of his hole. That’s all the warning he gets.

He was wrong before, this is what it feels like to be torn open. The burning build up as too much tries to push past flesh that’s already been stretched to its limit. The sudden ripping agony and sickening give, as he splits open. Keith screams until his voice cracks, then cries out more in the hoarse broken remains of his ruined voice.

Shiro fucks him with sadistic glee. Raking his claws down Keith’s side, when he grows too quiet, and adding fingers when he grows to loose. Keith is there, until Shiro comes with a vicious bite to his shoulder. Then he’s not.

Shiro’s standing, and he can’t recall him pulling out. But oh, there’s the blood. Wet and shiny on his soft dick. He didn’t guess wrong this time.

A finger pokes his nose, “Still awake?” Shiro’s face is big hovering above his own, “You can’t go to sleep yet,” Shiro says, frowning, “The others will be up soon.”

The klaxons are howling again.

**Author's Note:**

> So this took me a week to write, and during that week, one night due to circumstances I couldn't sleep for six hours straight.....so I may have figured out a crack way that Keith does not actually end up dying as would be expected by the ending of the fic. I may be posting it over on tumblr at some point. Same username.


End file.
